“Dude, you suggested that we get involved in this project. If you don’t want to deal with it, we can kiss our two million commission goodbye.”
He hesitated, then said, “Why a cemetery?”
“You remember, Cheeca Lodge has a Methodist cemetery? All we’ve got to do is mention that we’re there to see the cemetery and it’s a guarantee to get onto the property through the private gate.”
“But it’s still private property, Skip. We go tooling in with the truck and they’re going to send us packing.”
“They’ve got to let us in. It’s a deal they made with the Methodist church.”
“So you’re going to take the detector to Cheeca Lodge?”
“I am. We’ll go in late afternoon. Then when it gets a little dark-”
“Amigo, where do we start looking?”
“Well,” I’d thought it through and was pretty pleased with my plan. “There’s a golf course, a beach, of course all the buildings-”
“Man, if that stuff is buried under the buildings I don’t see how we could ever get it up.”
“There’s a big pool-”
“When they dug the pool, somebody would have found it if that’s where it rested.”
“There’s only one thing left, James. And it was there in nineteen thirty-five.”
“Whoa.” He gave me a big smile, his eyes opening wider. Motioning to Bobbie, he said, “I’m buying this guy a beer. He’s a genius.”
She nodded. “What kind?” She still didn’t remember.
“Whatever he’s having,” I said.
“Oh,” she brightened up. “Yuengling.”
James looked out at the water, focusing on something inside his head, the vision I’d painted.
“Pure genius. This guy Kriegel is walking around, maybe he even gets a ride down to this Millionaire’s Row where the fancy house had been, and he’s thinking about where to bury his gold.”
I nodded. “I’m thinking that the gold was still on the train. The railroad cars were scattered everywhere, but maybe this freight car was still closed. And these crates had to be solid. Put together really well. So Kriegel has a little time before the looters get here and he’s checking things out.”
“He gets this far and finds out there’s a cemetery. And it’s still there.”
“That’s where I’m headed.”
“Bodies buried?”
“Under the sand. The only damage to the entire place was the angel statue. There are bodies from the late eighteen hundreds. Just headstones above ground.”
“Nobody is going to dig up bodies.”
“No decent people. Zombies, maybe.”
He frowned.
“So, if someone did stumble on one of these buried crates, accidentally,” he rubbed his chin, “they’d think it had something to do with dead people. A wooden box in a cemetery? Maybe a pet coffin?”
“Doesn’t this make perfect sense?”
“Skip, it does. It would be like hiding something in plain sight. Anyone who found it wouldn’t understand its significance.”
“You’d think it would be a pretty safe bet.”
“We’re on for tonight, pard.”
“A little exploring.” Hiding in plain sight.
Kind of like the boat people down at the vacant property. I’d bet money they were smuggling something in plain sight. I wouldn’t bet our two million dollars, but I’d bet money.
“Hey, Skip,” James scrunched his shoulders, ran his fingers through his hair, and shook his head. In his best Rodney Danger-field imitation, he said, “Country clubs and cemeteries are the biggest wasters of prime real estate.”
That one was a freebie. I think we’d both memorized every line in
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
I carried the shovels, just in case we decided to dig tonight, and Em had the metal detector.
“Suppose we can stop in for dinner?”
“We’ll give it a try,” James said. “Once they let us in, they may as well take our money.”
We went through the gate with no trouble.
The guard said, “Oh, you’re here to see the cemetery, our historic site?”
“Yeah. History,” James said.
He handed us a pass and motioned us through.
When we arrived at the circular drive, the guy at the lodge walked out with a question mark look on his face.
Studying the truck he said, “Are you a vendor?”
Was it so hard to believe we were guests? Dressed in T-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops, I thought we fit right in.
“We’re here to have dinner and see the cemetery.” Em smiled at him and that seemed to get the job done.
“Very few people come here to see the cemetery.”
“We have family buried there and-” James trailed off.
“Well, certainly, sir.” He stood there in his crisp white shirt, white cargo shorts, white socks, and tennis shoes, holding his hand out.
“I’m sorry,” staring at the nametag on the attendant James said, “Jack, where do I park?”
“Sir, I’ll park the-” he surveyed the truck, “the vehicle.”
“No problem, I can-”
“Sir, I will valet the vehicle.”
“Let him park it, James.” It was obvious that Em had valet parked before. James and I, never.
Reluctantly, James handed the man the keys, and we got out of the truck.
“New experiences, Skip. That’s what I’m all about.”
I just shook my head.
We had a nice dinner. Better than we ever ate. I had shrimp and scallops. Em had an Asian dish I’d never heard of, and James had lobster. My best friend and girlfriend got along like brother and sister. They fought the whole time, but kept it down so we didn’t get thrown out.
Sitting out on the patio, a candle burning softly at our table, we smelled the ocean air, listened to a classical guitar, and had a glass of wine. It was what civilized people seemed to do. No Yuengling beers tonight.
Afterward we walked out to the cemetery plot. It was about the size of a postage stamp. Small, crowded, covered with sand, and a very strange addition to the beach. The statue of the angel was there, complete with a broken arm and wing done in the ’35 hurricane.
A wooden fence surrounded the burial ground but we were able to walk inside and survey the stones. Mounted on a post was a metal plaque that declared the cemetery was deeded to Richard Pinder in 1883 by President Chester Arthur. At least President Arthur did something with his short career. I knew nothing else about his presidency.
“So, what do you think, pard?”
Dusk had settled, and while several couples strolled the beach, most of the diners and outdoor folks had headed for their rooms or whatever nightlife they could find.
“Think the truck is unlocked?”
“Hard to say. I’ve never had a valet park my truck before. Em, do they, these valets, do they lock your
